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Broken Parent

The monotonous ring of the telephone connector stung my ears and the hollowed out noise was quiet but piercing. Mom stumbled to the edge of the porch around 2:30. She sobbed into her knees, huddled on the front step. “He doesn’t love me anymore.” “He doesn’t love us anymore”, she screamed. Mom looked up at me with tear filled eyes glazed over by the power of hard liquor, shook her head, and said, “He doesn’t want us anymore.”
There are a few rare moments when the adult word crashes into that of a child’s. Barreling through, knocking down smiles and bruising hearts in the process, the beauty of innocence shattered in the face of a broken parent.



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